I really shouldn’t have. I knew better.
Because right now, I’m half the man I was on Friday morning. I feel like a loser. Like I’m eighteen all over again. Although this time I didn’t disappear into the woods and end up naked in a pile of leaves, I sure as fuck didn’t move much either.
As I pull up to the worksite, I see a form lingering in the distant tree line.
The drugs obviously haven’t helped my little hallucination problem.
“You’re late,” Arbor says, looking up from his computer and narrowing his eyes as I step into the trailer. He must see what Isaw in the mirror today. It’s not pretty. In fact, it’s bordering on absurd. “Why do you look like that?”
My jaw grinds, a headache building in the back of my head.
“Just need coffee, is all.”
“Did you go out on some kind of bender? Are you high? Hungover?”
My head throbs. “Just had a long weekend.”
“Another Heat Hunt? You rut yourself into oblivion?” he sneers.
I hear the jealousy in his tone, and I meet his stare, but neither of us says anything.
“Fuck the gods. I didn’t mean that. Forget I said anything.” Arbor places one hand on the desk, the other pushing his glasses down his nose slightly to look over them. “But you really don’t look well. Perhaps you should take a sick day.”
“I slept the entire weekend. I don’t need to rest any more than I already have.”
His glasses come off, and he rubs his eyes, the scent of peaches coming off him in waves. “That was unprofessional of me. I shouldn’t have asked you what you were doing in your free time.”
“Don’t mind it,” I say as I make myself a fancy cup of coffee. “Gods, that’s good,” I murmur as I take my first sip. My words come out in an almost growl, and Arbor’s eyes flash up to meet mine.
“Itisgood. No one here appreciates it, though. Most of the men here complain about it. Hence, the old coffeepot on a crate outside. I had to pull it out of the dumpster and revive it.”
“They’re fools. All of them.”
Arbor’s lips twitch, and he leans back in his chair, assessing me.
I know he wants to ask why I look this way, and to save him the embarrassment of asking, I just say, “Smoked some Silver Leaf on Friday. And I have a shit brother who’s a bad influence.”
“Hm. I had Silver Leaf once. In Alabama. Wild night. I vaguely recall the sound of a banjo and a hyena laugh.”
My lips twitch slightly.
“Sounds scary.”
“It was. There are cryptids out there, you know?”
“Nope. Didn’t know that.”
His eyes flash to meet mine. “Some are…intriguing. If you smoke enough, they’re pretty hot.”
My half smile fades, and I clutch my coffee a little tighter.
“Don’t tell me you slept with one.”
He shrugs his shoulders and then moves his gaze back to the computer.
“You never tell what you do in Alabama. Now, get to work. You look like shit, but we have a lot of stuff to get done today. You got this?”
I nod and gulp down some more coffee—and some of my jealousy, as well.
